“How did she die?”
This question followed me for some time before I finally found myself standing at my grandmother’s grave.
I stood there beside my aunt, gazing at her gravestone as she recalled the events of that day.
My grandmother’s health had been deteriorating for some time due to a lifelong hole in her heart, and a love affair with cigarettes (and intense abuse and trauma she endured during her life).
Her youngest daughter at 18 had become her caretaker and was the only one I could find to tell me the story.
When I asked my aunt the question, she seemed surprised at first and had to dig through the archives of her own brain to remember.
It was a story that had been pushed out of everyone’s memories. No one in my dad’s family talks about these things.
But once we arrived at her grave, it started to unfurl, like a rose blooming ever so gently.
My aunt told me that my grandmother had been weak for some time, but that morning was different.
She was back to herself… she was chatty, smiling, upbeat, and requesting food.
My aunt told me she went to make my grandmother a sandwich and when she returned to the living room, an energy was present in the room and it was deafening.
It was brighter…too bright.
“As if angels were present”, she said.
My aunt told me the energy of the room was too much for her to bare, she felt a force carry her away as if she wasn’t supposed to be present for what was about to take place.
My grandmother just sat in her chair, smiling. With the warmth and light surrounding her.
My aunt told me she remembers suddenly feeling tired and so she went to take a nap.
As she was in an in-between phase, half asleep and half awake, she heard her mother call her name a few times.
But it was calm, and she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming, so she kept sleeping.
She told me it felt so strange because normally she would have gotten up to answer her - she was her caretaker.
But this time she didn’t.
When she woke up and returned to the living room, her mother had left her body.
She told me she looked peaceful.
She told me she had died surrounded by something Holy.
I could feel a slight twinge of regret in my Aunt’s voice as she expressed how she wished she would’ve gotten up to answer her call.
I didn’t try to tell her it wasn’t her fault. That type of feeling isn’t one that anyone’s words of solace can soothe.
But as she described the energy as holy, she told me she was thankful it was there. It made her happy and proud that she was ushered out like an Angel.
.
As we stood there, at her grave. I felt that same energy wrap around us both. A deep sigh of relief massaged away the tightness in my stomach.
I had spent two years wondering if she had died surrounded by love or not.
I learned of her life and how deeply she was hurt before I got to the answer to this question, and I am glad.
I sat with the learnings of all she endured, felt the grief of the abuse she experienced, and the pain of having never met her…until the story of her peaceful death arrived.
After so much pain, she died in grace.
A woman who had experienced some of the most horrific things - died surrounded by light.
I felt so much gratitude for my aunt for sharing this with me and for allowing me to write about it now.
I am thankful she followed the nudge of the energy to leave the room that day.
Maybe my grandmother didn’t want to die in front of her youngest daughter. Maybe it was something she needed to do alone. Maybe her calling her name was her saying goodbye.
Learning her story shifted something in me.
It answered the question to an assignment I felt I had been sent on.By her.
Maybe she didn’t want her story to get lost.
It was so close to floating away in the minds of those too bogged down with pain to honor it fully.
So, I picked up the thread and it has continued to lead my life in a way that is beyond comprehension.
Maybe she was showing me that no one’s story should get lost.
That there is wisdom in every thread, in every story of death.
Because each story of death is a story of life.
A story of our humanness.
This is the intention behind Death Weaving.
Can we make space for these stories in our hearts and in our communities?
Can we follow the thread of wisdom?
Can we honor those who have died, even in the face of our own pain and fear?
I’d love to hear your story.
Sending you love,
Lisa Marie xx
Current Offerings:
~1:1 Support for those navigating death, transition, and loss. Here we honor transitions as a gateway, inviting you into a deeper connection to your heart and body. You can read more about that offering here.
She sure was beautiful! Her love of life shows in her eyes. 💓